


Quintessence

by janetcarter



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, F/M, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 18:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11742456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janetcarter/pseuds/janetcarter
Summary: She had forgotten him. She had forgotten their friends. She had forgotten herself. But now, through his eyes, she relived the time stolen from her by quintessence and--No. She’d stolen the decaphoebs from herself.





	Quintessence

She had forgotten him. She had forgotten their friends. She had forgotten herself. But now, through his eyes, she relived the time stolen from her by quintessence and--

No. She’d stolen the decaphoebs from herself.

Alfor’s words of worried wisdom had never managed to crack the proud, determined shields she’d boasted as she worked. She’d been doing something good, after all, something great, something _monumental._ Why hadn’t he been able to see that?

No. Why hadn’t she been able to see that he was right? Why hadn’t she realized the harm she was causing, at least before her decisions had cost him his life? Before they'd cost the existence of entire planets and irreplaceable friendships? Before they'd cost her and Zarkon the stolen glances, the warm embraces, the passionate life they’d once shared? Or, rather, the life they could have shared. It was probably because Alfor was the only one between them whose judgment hadn’t been snatched up by the talons of reckless possibility.

She pulled the drapes of her cloak closer together, closing the fabric around herself tighter. She had spent decaphoebs replacing her reality with the false promises held by alternative ones, but she couldn’t hide any longer. Zarkon was resting, newly pulled from his coma-like state by her ignorant hands. She let go of her cloak and peered at them, bony claws etched out by elapsed time. They didn’t deserve to cup his sunken cheeks. While the urge to do so was hardly new, she could now see the poison of consequence radiating from her fingertips. Her hands retreated back into her cloak. She had tainted him enough.

She had fooled not only herself in her research, but him as well. His trust in her had forbid any protest from his sense of judgement. His rationality had been silenced by his heart and her determined promises. He had made a mistake by following her into the deceptive light so confidently, but it was her mistake. It was _all_ her mistake.

She’d thought she’d been doing something right. Even now, she thought she and her people were on a path to greatness, but fleeting memories of joyful discoveries in Alfor’s lab, laughter-filled dinners with the paladins, a fond marriage to a defender of the universe turned overlord at her shaky, goddamn hands…

Her lips parted in a sigh she didn’t deserve. Absolving herself of her sins wouldn’t be--shouldn’t be--as easy as exhaling them away. She turned herself from Zarkon’s body as he rested. In that short amount of time he had been awake, he was hardly sober enough from his dreams to hold a conversation. Telling him what she had learned would be in vain until his condition progressed. Until then, she would be left to wonder: Did he… remember, too?

For his memories to be so close to the surface, for him to reference his days as paladin so often, she realized how much he must have ached every time he laid eyes on her wretched, unknowing form. Yet, despite his own pain, he’d never told her the truth. He’d endured their sins--her sins--alone. Did he believe so naively that he was protecting her? After all, he had been naive enough to follow her during the decaphoebs when quintessence had been tainting her heart. She balled her claws into fists, clutching the fabric that shrouded them. Maybe it still was.

Had Zarkon never met her, he wouldn’t be in this condition. The Galra homeworld would have survived. Their people wouldn’t have been dragged into a war spurred by her own lack of rationality. Had Alfor called in another old friend from the field instead, maybe, just maybe, someone else would have heeded the warnings, acknowledged the risks, weighed the dangers in a manner that didn’t result in... this.

But she had been the one to answer the call. She had been the one to foolishly dip her fingertip in the potential of quintessence and slowly drown herself in its pools. And she’d pulled Zarkon down into the depths, too.

Maybe this is why he didn’t want her to remember.


End file.
